She saw above her, in a brief flash, layer on layer of gnome houses and workshops, cranes, nets, and the occasional flying (or falling) gnome. She congratulated herself on passing unseen and unheard, but part of her grudgingly admitted that any gnome who saw her would have assumed she was just testing a new invention, unless the gnome was also close enough to notice that she was human. And no one could have heard her over the clanking, whirring, grinding, and intermittent steam whistles.
The cable swung against the edge of the pit, which was now a skylight, above her. She climbed up with the rope, pumped with her legs to accelerate its swinging, tucked, sprang, rolled over in midair and landed noiselessly on the stone floor next to a gnomeflinger.
"Perfect, of course," she said with satisfaction. Mara unwrapped her hand from the rope, took three swaggering steps forward, and accidentally knocked down a gnome who was looking the other way. Mara sprawled backward, legs in the air and arms flailing.
The gnome scrambled up and offered her a hand. "Awfully sorry; it was my fault, after all I was busy thinking, there must be a defect in the — "
"It was my fault really," she began. "I'm sorry — " Then she realized that he hadn't stopped talking.
" — a little borrowed hydraulic gear would make it more efficient yet, if it didn't make it top-heavy — and a spring with a trigger-catch might store the energy — "
"Stop."
He did.
"Now," Mara said, "what are you talking about?"
"I was just telling you," the gnome said impatiently, "about the idea I had when I watched you trying to sneak down here — "
"You saw me coming?" She sagged slightly.
" — and I thought, if people are going to jump through the air, which I hadn't considered — until I saw you; you were obvious — we need precautions because of the gnomeflingers." His eyes, a light violet, all but glowed. "We all need bumpers. Yes. Being-bumpers, employing my sensors. Large, high-tension fenders suspended from our shoulders to absorb the shock. They'd have metal frames, cloth padding on the outside — "
"They sound awfully heavy," Mara objected. She was quite young, and slightly built, compared to the gnome.
"Then we'd add wheels to it," he continued without pausing, "And a spring-loaded axle for each wheel, and a governor to keep the axles balanced — "
"Who could move with all that on?"
" — and a motor to move the whole thing," the gnome finished firmly. "How do you expect to walk anywhere, if you don't use a motor? Youngsters these days." He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her. "Excuse me." Pulling a bulky pen from a loop on his belt, he tucked his chin and began drawing frantic, jagged lines across his shirt — a shirt that was already covered with sketches of wooden frames, toothed and worm gears, and interlocking systems of pulleys. One design started on his belly and moved through conduits and guy ropes all down his left sleeve.
The gnome looked up and saw Mara staring at him. "Well, I can't always find a sheet of paper when a thought strikes," he said with some asperity.
"Is each shirt a different project?"
"Of course not. In fact, some designs are on five or six different shirts. I keep hoping," he said wistfully, "that some day I'll be able to cross-index them, but every time I even get close, I need to do laundry. And here you are." He peered at her. "Speaking of you, are you someone I should know?"
"Everyone should," Mara said proudly, standing very straight.
"Everyone doesn't," the gnome said thoughtfully, "because I don't. Who are you?"
"I am known," she said with a bow and flourish, "as Mara the Wild." She did a standing flip. "Also Mara the Clever." She tapped the gnome's pockets significantly. "Also," she said in a loud whisper, "Mara the Queen of Thieves."
The gnome blinked. "Goodness," he said disapprovingly, "have you stolen much?"
"Not — much," the Queen of Thieves admitted. She scuffed her toe on the tunnel floor. "Not anything, in fact." This was why, after announcing her current planned heist to her family, she was also known as Mara the Dangerously Stupid.
She looked defiantly at the gnome. "But I'm sure that I could steal something if it was really important. I am also," she said demurely, "a woman of dazzling beauty, whom all men worship and crave." She coyly brushed at her short-cropped dark hair.
The gnome only looked at her.
"Okay," Mara said grudgingly, "so I won't be a woman of dazzling beauty for a couple of years. It's going to happen, I promise."
"I hope," he said seriously, "that you can accept all that worship and craving without becoming overly vain."
Mara smiled and, in the absence of a mirror, admired her slender shadow against the rock wall. "I'm sure I'll manage perfectly. Anyway, what's your name?"
The gnome immediately went on at some length, pausing for breath in what were clearly accustomed places.
"I only asked your name," Mara broke in finally.
The gnome looked disconcerted. "I'm not even halfway through it."
"Maybe I asked the wrong question. What does your name mean to humans?"
He nodded. "It's very descriptive, even for my people, and surprisingly apropos. I'm known among humans as He Who Will Not Stand Upon Accepted Science, But Will Research Back Into Dangerous and Even Unworkable Ideas, Nor Will He Stand on Conventional Testing, But Will Fall Back on Hazardous and Injurious Techniques, and Will Stand up for Belief in Technology, Which, Back Before the Great Cataclysm — "
"What," Mara said desperately, "do humans call you for short?"
The gnome said simply, "Standback."
Mara leaped back.
"No, no," said the gnome. "That's my name. Standback."
"Are you an inventor? Where's your workshop? Do you do all your work down here? You're not going to tell anyone you've seen me, are you?"
Poor Standback had no idea how to answer four questions thoroughly without taking a month off. "Would it upset you terribly if I answered in brief?" he said diffidently.
Mara, realizing with a shudder how narrowly she had avoided dying of old age during a participial phrase, put a hand on the gnome's arm. "Please, take as little of your research time as possible."
Standback was flattered and grateful. He concentrated. "Yes, I'm an inventor. These tunnels are my work area; I know they don't look like much, but they're roomy. I do all my work here. And no, I won't tell anyone I've seen you," he finished with slight melancholy, "because there's no one else to tell. I'm the only one — down here. It's nice to talk to somebody. Where are you from?"
Mara assumed an heroic stance, arms folded across her thin chest. "I am from Arnisson, a village under siege, desperate to keep itself free from the cruel talons of the draconian army. We are under the command of a lone Knight of Solamnia, a former townsman named Kalend. He's a friend of my older brother's," she sighed and her voice softened. "Kalend's nice, and he thinks I'M wonderful, but that's really not that surprising, because I'm ravishingly beautiful." She sighed again, this time in dejection. "Though I do wish he'd stop calling me 'little girl' all the time. Anyway, when I met him on the rampart walls a few nights ago, I asked him if we were likely to survive, and he said not really, but if the draconians attacked too early or while they thought we were unprepared, we still might win. And he said that if he had even one working gnome weapon, we'd stand a chance. And I think he meant it," she added sincerely.
She went on and on — some about the draconians, some about how dire the situation was, but mostly about Kalend, who grew taller and better looking as her story progressed. Standback nodded frequently.
"And so," she said, resuming the heroic stance, "I left Arnisson that very night. I left unseen," she added, pausing and staring at Standback earnestly.